Darkness Within
by Sulwyn of the North
Summary: Voldemort has a new Death Eater, one that might be the key to the world's undoing. But what will happen to her when the Order captures her? PG13 for mild language, and some violence, and lots and lots of implied stuff. Suspended, but not indefintely.
1. Chains and Escape

Disclaimer: Never have owned any of it, and I won't until my takeover of the world is complete and final.

Author Notes: If you have read my other story, "Fading Into Something," this one might confuse you. It's an alternate world with my OC, Cambri, in which she never gets the chance to get sent to Azkaban, because the Death Eaters kidnap her before it happens. Please R&R.

"_Have you ever been in a state of pain so intense, it was like a living creature wound tightly around your rib cage and shoulders and neck? Getting into that state requires not just one thing that's wrong, but instead a whole tangled know of wrongness. It requires wrong things you've done, along with wrong things that have been done to you. It requires both good and bad intentions, doubled and tripled back upon themselves until they're so distorted, you can't see clearly where they began. It requires wrong decisions, but no vision of what other choices you might have made. It requires you to see every inadequacy, every failing, every weakness you possess, magnified to horrific size. It requires bad luck. And then, when you reach this place and look around, you see only blackness. And only one possible route to travel: downward, and inward, into more blackness."_

_-The Black Mirror_

_Nancy Werlin_

Cambri waited until Richard Terrangs had left the room before she let herself submit to the tears that had been threatening her for hours. Even after he'd left, she cried quietly, letting her shoulders shake with silent sobs and letting the tears run down her face unhindered. Not that she could have wiped them away if she had wanted to; her hands were too tightly chained for that.

Cambri was partially disgusted-with herself-that even after all these years, he could still make her cry. For heaven's sake, she was ten years old; after seven years of torment she should be used to this. After letting some emotion out, she made herself stop crying before she became hysterical-that hadn't gone over well last time she had lost control-by sequencing squares.

_2. 4. 16. 256. 65,536. 4,294,967,296. Let's see . . . mathematically expressed . . . that's 1.844674407 to the nineteenth power. _

She could go no further, but it didn't matter. The numbers had served their purpose, and she had stopped crying entirely while trying to figure them out.

Suddenly, she heard the door creak open and she craned her neck, trying to see who had entered her room. She heard voices, surprising her.

"Shhh! Look, is the kid in here? If not, let's go!"

"We don't know."

"Well, let me see." There was a pause. "I don't see anyone."

"But the room doesn't look unused! Look, someone's slept in that bed recently."

"What, the kid's sleeping under the bed, is that what you're saying? Because whether someone has been here recently or not, no one's here now."

Cambri heard footsteps approaching her side of the bed, and she held her breath. She didn't know who the owners of the voices were, she didn't even know who they were looking for, but she did know that she didn't want them to find her.

Luck was not with her, though, and she soon saw a face hidden underneath a mask looking at her. "Bella!" a male's voice whispered urgently from underneath the mask. "Bella, I think I've found her!"

"Let's see, Lucius. Ah, yes, there she is. And . . . yes, I believe she is chained to her bed. What did you do, child?" This speaker was a woman, who examined her closely.

Cambri didn't answer. The masks and the black cloaks were causing several neurons to fire-a memory . . . these people were death eaters! She choked slightly on a mouthful of air.

"Are we sure it's her?" demanded Lucius. Bellatrix looked at his quellingly.

"What's your name, girl?" Bella asked, turning her attention away from her fellow again.

Cambri was silent, glaring at Bellatrix Lestrange-a name she remembered from the newspapers of the past-with all the hatred stored up in her little body.

"Ah, Lucius, I do believe she recognizes us," Bella exclaimed, sounding positively delighted. She cupped her hand around Cambri's face, raising her chin so that they locked eyes. "What's your name?" Bella asked pleasantly.

Cambri jerked away, hard. "Get out," she said, speaking for the first time.

The two death eaters laughed. "Who's going to make us?" Lucius asked.

Cambri paused. "I'll scream," she said finally.

"And you expect the muggles to stop us, is that it?" Bella asked, sounding highly amused. "Please. They don't exactly like you, do they? From the way the father treated you tonight, I think he would be glad to be rid of you."

Cambri fell quiet. Bellatrix was right, she knew that.

"And you won't scream," added Lucius. "We saw you crying earlier. You wouldn't make noise if your life depended on it . . . which it might, depending on your behavior."

Bella shot her companion a warning look. "What is your name?" she asked Cambri, looking her in the eyes again.

Cambri met her gaze unflinchingly. "Cambri Potter," she said, surprised at how natural it sounded. She had not uttered her parents' last name-her last name-since they had been murdered. It was only after she said this that she wondered if they would kill her because of it. She really wouldn't have minded if they had.

She sensed smiles behind the two masks, and Bella murmured, "Perfect. This is perfect." There was a pause, then the two started back into action. "Lucius, unchain her, while I make ready for our departure."

Lucius touched her chains with his wand, they disappeared, and he pulled her to her feet. Cambri jerked away from his hold, but otherwise stayed where she was. What was to be gained in running? They would only catch her and punish her for it.

Bella turned away from a large circle she had been making with her wand on the floor. It now glowed a sickly bluish color and Cambri stared at it, wondering what in the world they were going to do with a circle.

"Ready?" she asked Lucius, who nodded, and then dragged Cambri into the circle and handed her over to Bellatrix.

"I'll Apparate and see you two there," Lucius said, and disappeared.

"Where?" Cambri demanded. "Where you taking me?"

"It's a little late to be asking questions, Potter. Now hold still." Bella held her wand high, then brought it down, fast, saying, "Transicio!" They disappeared in a swirl of blue and silver.


	2. Muffins and Plots

Disclaimer: Wish I owned it. Don't. So I just sit here, a geeky fanfic writer, taking out my anger at this fact by pounding on the keyboard.

A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed my story last time. I'll keep this author's note short since my friend here keeps banging her head on the desk in an apparent attempt to kill off enough gray matter to knock herself unconscious or mentally retarded. Not that she needs any help with that sort of thing. Of course, she's really only allowing the control freak side of her personality to become all too apparent, so, like I said, I'll keep this short. Oh, wait. Too late. Oh, well. . . .

It had been a five years since that night, though Cambri still dreamed about it sometimes. Upon waking, however, it seemed that there were always gaps in the conversation, gaps that matched the ones in her memory. But no matter. She had better things to do than to dwell on half-memories and dreams.

With a quiet groan, Cambri jumped out of bed, landing purposefully on the hard, freezing cold stone floor instead of the floor rug so she would wake up more quickly, and then dared look at her watch. Six a.m. Just wonderful. She was late.

_It's not as though I don't have an excuse_, Cambri thought bitterly as she threw on a shirt over the camisole she slept in. _It's just that stupid duel with Malfoy took me nearly an hour to finish, and then I had work to do, so I didn't get to bed until one!_

Even inside her head the words sounded stupid. Whiny.

Lord Voldemort didn't want excuses, he wanted results. So she would give them to him. But first, she should probably put some pants on.

Cambri threw on a pair of old jeans, then pulled her black robe on over her clothes. This was why she didn't pay attention to what she wore. She was just going to have to wear the black over it.

Sighing, she brushed her teeth, pulled back her long, curly black hair, and finally made it down to breakfast by six thirty.

"Took you long enough," Bellatrix commented, reading the newspaper.

"You in there?" Cambri asked, ignoring that comment, and opening the pantry to see what she could find to eat.

"Mentioned once or twice. No pictures though," Bella answered distractedly.

"Pity," Cambri said, emerging triumphantly from the pantry with a muffin. "How's Malfoy?"

Bella put down the paper, grinning. "We still can't wake him up, you know," she said. "What did you do?"

Cambri smiled thinly as well. She didn't smile often; things like that mostly got her into trouble, but this was something to be proud of. In five short years she had gone from knowing almost no magic, to being so good that the only one who could beat her in a duel was Lord Voldemort himself. Then she checked her watch.

"Damn," she said mildly, stuffing the muffin in her mouth and chewing vigorously. Bella watched her with an amused look on her face.

"Need to be somewhere, Terrangs?" she asked.

"You know I do," Cambri said thickly, keeping her same mild expression. She had learned over the years that if you could control your emotions, you had it made. Whatever that meant. She swallowed the muffin and headed out the door, stopping only when she remembered Malfoy. "Oh, try the Exsuscito spell."

"Why are all your spells in Latin?" Bella called after her, irritated.

"Because if spells are in the base language, they tend to be more powerful," Cambri called back, her voice growing fainter as she turned corners to reach her destination.

"Whatever that means," Bella muttered, shrugging and turning back to the paper.

Cambri's destination was what the death eaters jokingly referred to as the Throne Room. It was where Voldemort stayed when he was there. She entered, nearly fifteen minutes late, and hurried to the center of the room, where she knelt.

"You're late, Cambri," said Voldemort, not turning from the window he was gazing out of.

"Yes, Master," Cambri said. "I apologize."

"Why?" he asked, turning to look at her.

Cambri lowered her head to examine the rough stone she was kneeling on. "You don't want to hear excuses, Master, so I won't bore you. It will not happen again."

"It had better not," he said, his voice cold. There was a pause while Cambri thought that this minor infraction really wasn't enough to warrant a punishment. She was right, thankfully, and after another moment, Voldemort spoke again, his voice less harsh, although no less chilling. "You may rise."

"Thank you, Master," Cambri said automatically, getting to her feet and meeting his eyes.

"Now, I have called you here to discuss my plans for Harry Potter near the end of this year." Cambri nodded, and he continued, laying out the plan. It was simple, but ingenious all the same. Most of his plans were.

"Do you understand?" He had finished explaining.

"Yes, Master."

"You know that this will be a great personal risk for yourself, don't you?" he asked her, examining her critically.

Cambri didn't dare say what she was thinking, which was that she really doubted it, but nodded instead. "I understand, Master."

"Then you realize what you have to do?"

"Perfectly," Cambri said, and she did.


	3. Collision and Capture

Disclaimer: Plot is mine (sort of), Cambri is mine. Everything else (unfortunately) belongs to a very nice lady named J.K. Rowling. You may have heard of her.

A/N: I know that I only have three reviews so far, but I'm still really, really happy about those that I've gotten. Thanks so much! Your reviews make me all bubbly inside for the whole day, like soda pop! And for those of you who read my story without reviewing it: SHAME!! Please R/R!

Cambri ran down the halls of the Ministry of Magic, hearing shouts, only to collide with someone head on, running the other direction. It took a moment of confusion before she realized that it was a death eater she had ran into. "What's wrong?" she demanded as they both scrambled to their feet. "What went wrong?"

"No time!" he gasped and she recognized the voice of Rodolph Lestrange. "Stay here; we had to switch to plan C."

"What happened to plans A and B?" Cambri demanded, as some distant part of her wondered exactly who had come up with these unoriginal plan names. Why couldn't they have something like: Plan Omega Beta Alpha Muffin? Okay, that name was too long, but honestly . . . . she would have to get on them for that.

"No time! Remember, plan C!" he said urgently, pushing her out of the way and racing down the hall after his fellows. Cambri's mind was blank for a moment, then suddenly she remembered her role in plan C. Cursing everyone she could think of, she rolled behind a statue and waited for the Aurors she could now hear quite clearly to round the corner. She hated being the distraction, but she was the only one good enough to hold them off long enough. Still, she was devoted enough to her master and his cause that she would do anything he told her without question. All in all, it did not surprise Cambri that, looking back, she didn't spare even a brief thought for her own life (or death) until long after the battle was over.

The Aurors, _all seven of them, _as Cambri grimly thought, came to a quick stop when they saw that one of their enemies had stayed behind. There was a long, stretched out moment in which they all stared and her and her upraised wand, and in which Cambri was intensely glad they could see her face, the still immature face of a fifteen year old girl, and then Kingsley Shacklebolt took control.

"She's obviously stalling for the others. Take her down quickly and keep going!" he commanded, and one of them stepped forward. Cambri bit back a demonic laugh. _Only one. Please. Spare me. _She leapt aside to avoid a stunning spell he sent at her, then stunned him back. The difference was, her spell didn't miss.

As soon as he was down, another one took his place. Cambri was already getting tired of the battle. Maybe she could scare some of them off? Doubtful, but definitely worth a try. Besides, stunning spells didn't last forever. Before he even had a chance to get a word in, she raised her wand high.

"Avada Kedavra!" she shouted. As much as she hated shouting spells-it seemed to unnecessarily vulgar and show-offy- it was needed for this one. As usual, she felt the rush of death tugging at her clothes, as if the spell wanted to take her with it. And, as usual, she shut her eyes so she wouldn't see what the consequences of the spell were. She had no problem looking at dead bodies, but she didn't like to watch the process.

Still, she could feel it. She could feel the life and breath being torn out of his body and she concentrated on sending it away. It was a terrible spell, with terrible consequences, but it was easy enough once you got comfortable with killing.

All this took only seconds to happen, and then there was silence. There always was after a murder, but, as she knew from experience, it didn't last for long. Sure enough, Kingsley's growl of fury put the horribly spiraling silence out of its misery. Three of the remaining five Aurors stepped up, Kingsley among them, and the battle began in earnest. Cambri, with three of them to keep her busy, could not stop the other two from running down the hall after her fellows, but it didn't matter. She'd given them plenty of time to escape.

Cambri had been holding her own in the battle, knowing that eventually they would get her, but that didn't bother her very much, when she heard the whoosh of someone appearing very fast behind her, but she couldn't spare any time to look around. She could only hope it was help for her, although she very much doubted it.

Still, even with the knowledge that the appearance of the mystery person could only mean bad news, the voice she heard behind her chilled her.

"Cornelius sent me. They've captured a Death Eater in the entryway, and he needs you for questioning. I'll take care of this one."

The tired Aurors nodded and Disapparated, and Cambri whipped around to face her new opponent, a feeling of dread erupting in her stomach when she saw him. Still, she couldn't let him know that.

"Dumbledore," she said smoothly, keeping her eyes on his face.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes burning as he looked at her. "I don't believe I know your name."

"Nor will you," she said curtly, and the battle began again.

He won, of course, but she was able to hit him twice with a mysteriously ineffective stunning spell before he stunned her. When he did, he walked over to the Death Eater with a growing feeling of apprehension. She was very good, and with someone like her on Voldemort's side, the Dark Lord's conquest had a much larger chance of success.

He checked her vitals, just to make sure. The Order needed one alive. Then he removed her mask, and blinked in surprise. The calm, peaceful face of a sleeping teenage girl confronted him, and his mind suddenly spiraled with questions, all of them unanswerable.

"Dumbledore?" Remus's voice sounded behind him. "Dumbledore, the other Death Eater-he escaped. They want to know if you've got the other one."

"I do, Remus," said Dumbledore, standing. "And here she is. But I don't think that we will be telling the Ministry that. We need her at the Order for questioning. The Ministry will just sentence her to Azkaban and the information she carries will be wasted."

Remus looked closely at the girl lying on the floor and said something he normally didn't say in polite society. "She's so young!" he whispered. "She's Harry's age, Dumbledore; are you sure that's her?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure. I had to take her down myself, and she nearly broke my Three-Curse Spell before I could get her. She stunned Charmel, and the Ministry is going to have to write a letter to Kope's family," he said, gesturing to the two fallen Aurors.

"She did that?" Remus said, raising an eyebrow. "This is bad. Who is she?"

The older man shook his head. "I don't know," he said grimly. "But we are going to have to find out."


	4. Aspirin and Bookshelves

Disclaimer: My therapist says I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, and I suppose I believe her, but I'm still not sure in the case of Tom Riddle, Oliver Wood, and, of course, Harry himself.

A/N: For those of you who are still slow: apply liberal amounts of sarcasm to the disclaimer. Thank you my wonderful reviewers! You lift me up where I belong . . . oh, wait, that's love. Never mind. But I am still very grateful. Here you go:

Cambri woke slowly, lying on her stomach and gingerly tried to raise her head, but fell back with her face on the pillow. "Head hurts," she groaned into it, and tried to remember why she was so sore. It hit her just as a male voice spoke to her right.

"Do you want some aspirin?" he asked, and she sat up quickly to see who it was. Or, rather, tried. Her plan was foiled halfway between sitting up and looking at him, causing her to jerk forward, something her head did not need. She glared at the obstruction, the ropes that tied her wrists to the bed frame. They made no response, so she sighed and turned to her other problem.

This problem took form of a man, in his mid or late thirties, although looking much too old for his years, with sandy, nondescript hair and an intelligent face. An open book lay in his lap and he looked at her calmly, as though waiting for her to say something.

She watched him carefully for a moment, then turned back to examine the ropes. It did not escape the man's keen sight that she was looking at the ropes with the same expression she'd granted him: boredom spiked with some irritation. The same look one might give a troublesome weed that needed to be uprooted.

"Magically enforced?" she asked, surprised at how hoarse she sounded. She swallowed and tried again. "The ropes-they're enforced by magic?" Better. Smoother. Colder. Exactly what she had wanted.

"Yes," he said. "You still haven't answered my question."

She blinked. "What question?" Her voice, oddly enough, made him flash on James, or maybe Sirius. Bored arrogance.

"Do you want some aspirin?" he repeated, banishing the thought.

She examined him, more closely this time, as if trying to decide if he was trying to be funny. "Who are you?" she finally asked.

"Who are you?" he countered. An unoriginal counter, yes, but it served its purpose.

"Cambri." It felt strange to share her name with someone she didn't know, sort of like sharing a secret. She shook that thought away. It was silly; her name meant nothing, not to her and certainly not to this man.

"Cambri what?" he asked, his voice still mild. But she could see that he had reacted to her name somehow.

"Cambri Terrangs," she said. "And you can do a background check if you like. They're my foster parents."

"Who are your real parents?" he asked, curious.

"What's your name?" she asked again, then cursed herself for such a stupid counter. The least she could do was come up with something more interesting, or at the very least not use his same counter.

"Remus Lupin," he replied. "And your real parents' name?"

"Wish I knew," she answered in a voice that clearly said she didn't. "Where am I?"

"Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix," he said calmly. It wouldn't do anything to give that away.

She nodded, apparently satisfied. She didn't ask anything else, and he went back to his book for awhile.

"Wandering with Werewolves?" she said suddenly, startling him. "Why are you reading that? We had marked you down as intelligent."

"I'm flattered I'm worth your master's time," he said, ignoring the jibe.

"You're not," she said flatly. "But we have files for all suspected members."

"Ah. I see." And it seemed that he did. "I'm reading this because there is nothing else," he continued. "And I'm writing down everything that I'm going to write a letter of protest about."

She looked mildly disgusted. Remus guessed that that was how she always expressed emotions: in a soft, mild way so she couldn't get carried away by them. Despite himself, he was impressed with her control. "That book-all his books-disgusted me. Anyone with half a brain could see that he made most of them up. Especially that one. The Hormorphous Charm, _honestly_."

"I know," said Remus, warming to the discussion. "What I don't understand is how he got anyone to believe it."

"Yes, because even someone thick would have to realize that if that charm existed, it would be close to a cure for lycanthropy, which still isn't possible," Cambri continued. She liked intelligent discussions. They took her mind off the responsibilities Voldemort had put on her. Suddenly she remembered that he was her enemy, and that she should probably be using him to get information. "The-the raid, on the Ministry, how did it . . . I mean, was anyone captured besides me?" she asked, changing the subject.

"One," said Remus, disappointed that it was over so soon. She was obviously afraid of getting into a friendly conversation with him. "But he escaped when . . ." Remus trailed off, unsure. Should her really be telling her all this?

But she looked relieved, a strange look in contrast to her normally calculating eyes. "Oh, good," she said, leaning back onto the pillows.

"You were the distraction, weren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I was," she replied, and that was all he could get out of her about the plan.

Finally, Cambri interrupted his questioning. "I don't suppose there's any chance of me getting these ropes off, is there?"

"Not that I can see," he said, and she sighed, looking disappointed. He wondered briefly whether she ever got angry.

"Hey, Moony," said Sirius, walking into the room. "How's it going with the prisoner?"

"All right," said Remus, turning to look at his friend.

"What are you reading?" Sirius asked, pulling up a chair, and when Remus showed him, he grinned. "Why are you reading that?" he demanded.

"Because there is nothing else on that bookshelf of yours that I haven't read already," Remus said tiredly.

"_His_ bookshelf?" Cambri asked. "Implying that he owns the bookshelf, implying that, unless you hand out bookshelves throughout the house for some obscure reason I'm sure I don't want to know about, he owns the house, implying that the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, which as you might remember you told me we were currently in, is the Black house? Number 12 Grimauld Place?"

Remus didn't know which was more appalling: the fact that she had just discovered one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Order of the Phoenix from such an innocent comment, or her run-on sentence. He sighed. This was going to be a long ordeal and it was just his luck to be caught up in it.


	5. Meetings and Ulcers

Disclaimer: YES!!!! My plan to take over the Harry Potter universe has succeeded. I now own all Harry Potter books, movies, and merchandise, and you know what else? I'M NOT SHARING!!!! Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!

A/N: Again, please apply a heavy amount of sarcasm to that disclaimer. I don't really own anything Harry Potter related, that is, I don't make money off of anything Harry Potter related. Sad. Oh, well. Thanks my reviewers; sorry this one took awhile to write. My muse, a six foot four Australian man named Devon left me for my best friend, but he came back a few days later. So here's the story:

Cambri awoke the next morning to the unmistakable sounds of an argument outside her door. She couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but it sounded like they dragged her name into it a few times. She could feel her stomach twisting. It felt like there was a large stone in the pit of her stomach. Maybe an ulcer. That would definitely make sense. Finally, the door burst open and two teenage boys bounded into the room. Cambri's first reaction to the newcomers: red.

They were Weasleys, they had to be. No one else had that red of hair, that many freckles, and that big of a grin all at the same time but one of the many Weasleys.

"Hello," she said awkwardly. They beamed at her. She wondered if they knew she was a Death Eater, and, if not, then what the _hell_ were they doing in her room?

"How are you?" asked one of the twins, settling into a chair, while his brother hopped onto her bed and sat next to her.

Cambri considered. Their cheerfulness was very unnerving. "Sore," she finally said.

"Why?" asked the one on her bed.

"Because I've been tied to my bed, and . . . wait, who are you two?" she finally asked.

"I'm Fred-" This was the one on the chair.

"-and I'm George," his twin sitting on the bed finished. "Who are you?"

"Cambri Terrangs," she said. But surely they already knew that. "A Death Eater," she added, hoping they'd get the hint and leave. They were cute enough, but . . . she couldn't afford to get tied up in anything at the moment.

"We've heard," they said cheerfully and in unison.

"Sirius didn't want us to take a turn guarding you," Fred told her mournfully.

"But we put him in his place," George continued happily, putting an arm around her shoulders. "And so now we can. Isn't it happy?"

Cambri couldn't remember a time when she had been more confused. The feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified, and the two were so immensely cheerful that it was enough to make her head spin. She just wasn't used to happy. She just didn't _do_ happy. All she really wanted, she decided, was for them to go away. Then again, perhaps she could use them . . .

"Do you think you could untie me?" she asked hopefully, carefully keeping all sarcasm out of her voice. It was not an easy task.

"'Fraid not, Darling," Fred told her sorrowfully. "We've strict orders not to."

"She is awfully cute, though," George argued, eyeing her. Cambri's discomfort deepened. She didn't like to be touched. It never brought anything good for her. Not at the Terrangs, and certainly not during her training with the Death Eaters. She shivered, remembering.

"Are you cold?" asked Fred, leaning closer. "'Cause we could keep you warm." His grin became suggestive.

Cambri wriggled out of George's hold. "No thanks," she said coldly.

"Fred, I saw her first!" George whined, grinning at her. Cambri looked out the window desperately, hoping for rescue.

"Listen," she interrupted as they continued to argue over her. "You're both nice and everything, but . . . I'm not interested." Why was she being so nice? She was a Death Eater, for heaven's sake! "Just keep away from me," she added, her voice sharpening. "I don't want anything to do with any of you. I'm only here because I was captured. I'm not your new toy!" Cambri stopped suddenly, realizing that she had been half-shouting.

_Calm down_, she told herself_. Calm down. You don't know what they want. They're probably just joking around. I hardly think they'd be allowed to touch me. They probably aren't anything like my foster father or, worse, Malfoy . . . _

They sobered. "Sorry," said George, getting off her bed and whisking the chair out from under Fred.

Fred hit the floor with a thud. "We don't mean anything by it. We do that to every female."

"You should have seen Mrs. Figg's face," said George with a reminiscent smile.

"Tonks actually kissed us," Fred added happily. "We don't expect you to do that, though. We're really just joking. We're always just joking."

"Almost always," George amended.

And the grins were back, bright as ever.

Cambri groaned internally. There was no way she could take these two every day until her rescue. Just the thought of it made her stomach wrench in pain. She groaned aloud and buried her face in a pillow, and refused to speak to anyone else for the rest of day.

A/N: Sorry that was so short . . . and so poorly written. I just need something to jolt my imagination. Maybe I'll go watch Laura Croft: Tomb Raider again. That worked last time . . . hmmm . . .


	6. Memories and Confessions

Disclaimer: So I was sitting here, writing this story, when I thought, hey, why the hell am I writing this story? I should be writing the sixth book for my Harry Potter series. And then I remembered: Oh, right. I don't own Harry Potter anymore.

A/N: Hopefully this chapter will be better than the last one. See, my muse Devon left me for my best friend for awhile, but he came back, and after a great time, this story came to me! Yay!

Cambri's magical talent was exceptional, but if she were to pinpoint just one thing she was especially good at, it was memories. She had a photographic memory as it was, but it was deeply enhanced by her magic, to the point that she could twist other's memories at will and transmit memories from person to person if she chose.

But there was a downside to these enhanced memories. It meant that she could never forget anything, ever, even the memories that were never meant to surface but to be buried deep inside your mind so they didn't drive you insane. It also meant that nightmares were never real nightmares but only terrible memories intensified a thousand times so that she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep.

This was one such nightmare.

"_Lucius, stop. Please, stop."_

_"Be quiet, you stupid girl, or your punishment will be worse."_

_"Lucius, please. _Please_. I'll do whatever you want, just . . . keep away, please!" She was begging; the air filled with her frantic pleading. _

_"I want you to hold still," he told her, his voice silky._

_"Please!"_

_"No. I know you've experienced this before, don't try to pretend you're a virgin." He was smiling down at her, one hand holding a long, thing rope and the other holding her down._

_"Stop, I'm begging you!" she pleaded. Anything, anything to get away, to stop him, to stop the memories. _

_"I'd noticed," he said, his voice and eyes growing cold. She continued to struggle, and he slapped her, hard. "Hold still and it will be less painful," he advised. Cambri stopped fighting. "Good girl." He tied her hands to the bedpost. _

_"Please," she whispered, terrified. _

_"Behave," he ordered, and the torment began. _

Cambri woke quickly, trembling violently. She always hated that particular memory. Groaning softly, she turned on her side, facing the wall, and wiped away her tears. She hated crying. So unfortunate that it was necessary; she had to get out emotion somehow. She suddenly stiffened, hearing movement.

"Cambri," said a voice softly at her bedside. "Cambri, was that . . . you?"

She rolled over to see Remus looking at her with an expression of horror and, strangely, sympathy. "What are you talking about, Lupin?" she demanded, sitting up and glaring at him.

"That dream," he said hesitantly. "Was it from you?"

"What dream?" she asked roughly. _Oh, please. Don't let him be talking about what I think he's talking about. There's no way he could have gotten it . . . _

"I'm sorry," he began. "I had dozed off while I was guarding you, and I had a dream with . . . you and with . . . Malfoy." If he had been talking about anything else, Cambri would have thought his hesitation would be funny, or even cute. But not now.

"Yes, Malfoy and myself. So what?" Best to play dumb. Maybe he wouldn't have the guts to ask.

"He was . . . hurting you."

"Yes?"

"Raping you." He looked down. Even in the semi-darkness of her room, she could see his blush.

"Lupin, your twisted sexual fantasies are truly fascinating, but I'm really not in the mood right now," she said dryly.

"It wasn't mine," he said, jerking his head up. Then his voice softened. "It was your memory, wasn't it? You-you've been crying, Cambri."

Now it was Cambri's turn to blush. She looked down, but said nothing.

"Cambri?" His voice was gentle.

She broke. "Yes, it's mine," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She suddenly looked up, her eyes fierce and dark. "Happy now?"

"No, I'm not happy," he said fervently. "Do you think I wanted to see that?"

"Do you think I did?" she demanded. Suddenly, Cambri realized she was too open, too exposed, and she withdrew into herself. There was a long pause. "Are you going to tell anyone?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Of course not," Remus assured her. He realized that, despite her would-be casual voice, she was deeply worried by this. "And, Cambri, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get that memory."

She didn't answer, so after another moment, he walked back and sat down in his chair.

"That's why I hate these ropes so much," she said quietly, and he realized she was talking to him. "They remind me, all day, every day of those punishments."


	7. Pets and Duels

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. is kind of like the planet Neptune, a laptop, and an ice cream sundae, in the sense that I do not own all four.

A/N: I'm really, Really, REALLY sorry about how long this took me to write. My writer's block has been terrible ever since school started. Thanks for everyone who reviewed my last chapter. You make me happy inside, and please don't kill me for taking so long on this one!

Cambri supposed Lupin must have had a word with Dumbledore because, from that point on, she was untied and allowed to roam freely throughout her room.

On her first day of freedom, she barely stood at all; her legs had nearly atrophied from the absence of use. Not to mention the horrendous rope burns on her wrists.

She had been seeing a lot of Fred and George lately. She supposed that they were excited to have someone new to tease and play pranks on, although she wasn't thrilled to be their new toy. But she was rarely bored anymore. So when she heard to teenagers entering her room, she didn't bother to turn around from the bookcase she was examining.

"Are you the Death Eater they caught a month ago?" she heard a voice ask near her ear.

Cambri spun around, surprised, and found herself face to face with Harry Potter himself. She felt her natural defensiveness kick in, and she smiled haughtily and leaned against the bookcase, crossing her arms in front of her. In this way she had instantly built a wall between herself and Potter, both physically and mentally.

Potter seemed to sense this, though it didn't affect his stance or his glare. "Well?" he demanded.

"Well, what?" she asked, still smiling.

"Are you a Death Eater?" he repeated slowly.

"Sure am," she replied, shrugging. Internally, Cambri cringed. She really, honestly, truly hated acting like an insensitive jerk. But it was part of the job. "Why do you ask?"

"How old are you?" he asked, not bothering to answer her question.

"Same age as you, Potter," she said, allowing some of the contempt she was feeling creep into her voice.

That did it. They were now locked in a furious staring match. That had not been Cambri's intention, but she realized now that she had definitely sounded like she was challenging him. Suddenly, he smiled.

"Fred and George won't stop talking about you," he told her, still not breaking her gaze.

Cambri was so surprised at his sudden lack of hostility that she was tricked into replying. "Yeah, and I bet none of it's good, either." She wanted to kick herself. She even considered doing it, her reply was so stupidly polite.

Potter looked just as surprised at her answer as she had at his question. She felt a vague sort of satisfaction at this.

"Harry, come one, let's go."

Cambri nearly jumped, and peered around her opponent. She had all but forgotten that there had been someone besides Potter in the room. It was Ron, one of the many Weasleys. He was of no interest, so she went back to looking at Potter.

"What do you want?" she asked. Better to just cut right to the chase. It was too late to take back her abysmally human behaviour, so perhaps she could get him to leave instead.

"In a minute, Ron," he said, and then sat down. Cambri moved into the other chair her room offered, and Ron was forced to choose between the bed and the floor. He sat down where he was standing. "I want to know why you serve Voldemort."

Cambri managed not to flinch at the name, but she must have shown some discomfort, because Potter smiled. "What kind of a question is that?" she asked, mainly to buy time. No one had asked her that before, and she quite honestly didn't know the answer.

"An honest one," he replied, not missing a beat. "And I want and honest answer."

"Why?"

"Because Voldemort is evil, immoral, disgusting, lying slime and I'm curious to know why anyone would want to serve him," he answered without a change in his all too pleasant expression.

At the Death Eater headquarters, there were files on anyone who was considered a threat. The more of the threat they were, the bigger the file. Albus Dumbledore had an enormous file rivaled only by (surprise, surprise) the famous Harry Potter. At the headquarters, because of her considerable intelligence, Cambri's main job was to psychoanalyze all of the potential (and not so potential) threats based on whatever evidence was in their file. She could see now that she had drastically underestimated Potter. Not a good sign.

"Isn't the answer obvious, Potter?" Cambri asked with noticeable disdain. It was always better to be too guarded and defensive than too little. "Power."

"You're sixteen years old," he said in disgusted tones. "What would you know about power?"

"More than you'll ever know," she answered, raising an eyebrow, challenging him.

"I wouldn't be too sure," Potter snapped.

"No?" she asked calmly; glad to have at last gotten him angry. "Try dueling me sometime."

Harry scowled and leaned against the wall. "You know I can't," he told her irritably.

"Can't what?" she demanded.

"Can't duel you," he explained slowly. "You don't have a wand, and do you think I'm really dense enough to give you one?"

Cambri didn't answer, just looked at him with cool, steady eyes.

Harry sighed. "I'll take that as a yes," he said dully. "Well, I'm not."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

Mrs. Weasely interrupted another stare down by calling Harry down for dinner. He studied her for a moment longer before leaving with Ron. Cambri waited until they had descended the stairs before she sighed and fell back into a chair.

George managed to sneak up and see her later that night. "So," he said standing in the doorway.

"So," Cambri answered, standing.

"Harry got in trouble," he continued, despite her lack of interest.

"Whatever for?" Cambri wanted to know. "How did the great Harry Potter managed to get into trouble?"

George grinned, and sat down, pulling her into his lap. "Guess," he said.

"George," she complained. He'd done this before, and while it never led to anything, she was still uncomfortable with it.

"Guess," he repeated.

"I couldn't guess, just tell me."

He sighed. "You're no fun. All right, well, Harry got in trouble for messing with our pet Death Eater."

Cambri's face went still and she stood.

"Oh, come on," George said, reaching for her. "Don't you even want to know what they did to him?" Then, noticing her anger, "What? What did I do?"

"Pet Death Eater?" she asked softly, turning on him. Her eyes were cold and they were boring into his.

George shrugged. "It's just an expression," he said uncomfortably.

"Pet Death Eater?" she demanded. "I'm not your toy, I'm not your pet!"

"All right, all right, calm down. I'm sorry," he said, standing.

She turned away from him to gaze out the window, her stubborn pride not letting her forgive him just yet.

There was a long silence, before George said, right behind her, "Though you would make a pretty cute pet."

Cambri whipped around, most likely to tell him off, but it never happened. What happened was that George leaned in, right when she turned around, and kissed her.

She was so surprised that she let him for a few seconds, before she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his arms still around her waist.

"Don't give me that. We could never be anything," she said, not unkindly.

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"Because," she exploded, irritated with his false innocence, "because I'm a Death Eater, that's why. I enjoy torturing Muggles and killing off troublesome wizards."

"You do not," he said quietly. "That's not you, Cambri."

She gave him a skeptical look. "And since when are you the expert?" she asked.

"Oh, come on!" It was his turn to be annoyed now. "Why do you do everything Voldemort tells you?"

"Because he's my master, and don't say the name," she hissed.

"Voldemort," he half-shouted, and she giggled, the tension between the evaporating. "Volde-" he started again, but she covered his mouth with her hand, still laughing, although a bit nervously.

"See," George said, pulling her hand away. "We're perfect for each other."

"Oh, yeah, me desperately trying to shut you up as you shout this forbidden name. We are perfect for each other. How did I miss it?" she asked, but it was getting harder and harder to resist him. He was so close to her.

"You know what I mean," he said quietly, and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back.

When they finally broke apart, George grinned. "Voldemort," he whispered.

"Shhh," she said. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Isn't it past yours?" he replied.

"You know, it is," she said, glancing at the clock. "I need to get to bed."

"Can I come?" he asked cheerfully.

"George," she moaned.

"What?"

Cambri sighed. "Go to bed, George."

And after searching her face for a moment he left, looking dejected.

Cambri had strange, but pleasant dreams that night. George's dreams were just pleasant.

A/N: There see, I made the chapter extra long, just to make up for all the weeks I've missed. Please, if you've ever posted a story on here, you know how good reviews make you feel. Well, they make me fell the same way!


	8. Protestations and Torture

Disclaimer: The only Harry Potter stuff I own consists of robes, wands, and lightsabers. Oh, wait. Never mind that last one.

A/N: Wow. I know I can't apologize enough for how freaking long that took. But I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you, reviewers! You guys are great!

"Dumbledore, she's not what you think," George protested. "She's not evil, she's not-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "George, sit back down and listen to me," he said calmly, and George sat heavily, looking defeated.

"Firstly," Dumbledore said gently, "this was exactly why we didn't want you to guard her. We were afraid, close in age as you are, she would use you as a tool, or as a sort of shield."

"She wouldn't do that, I mean, I'm sorry Professor, by Cambri isn't like all the other Death Eaters!" George was half out of his seat, angry at what Dumbledore was suggesting.

"George," Dumbledore said sharply. "Listen to me! I don't know what you has said or how she behaves around you, but I've questioned her, and I've gotten very close to her mind, and . . ." Dumbledore sighed, looking weary. "She's very devoted to her master, George," he said quietly. "There is nothing you can do to stop her from being a Death Eater. She is, as far as I can tell, happy using her incredible powers for Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore paused to let this sink in. George, however shook his head. "Professor, I'm sorry. I can't let this go without more of a fight. Cambri is . . . there's just something good there. People like, say Malfoy, you can tell they were meant to be Death Eaters. Cambri just has something good."

Dumbledore stood, looking sad. "I am sorry, George," he said quietly. "I think though, that after all these years I am qualified to make an analysis. Cambri is brilliant, but she is also very, very cold. Whatever emotions she has expressed around you, I can assure you, they are calculated, and not as real as she would have you believe."

George knew he sounded like a broken record, but he felt like he knew Cambri. "She is better than them, Dumbledore," he said earnestly. "She's better than the other Death Eaters."

Dumbledore sighed again, then stood. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I know that you care about her." George shook his head, too angry at Dumbledore's refusal of his pleas to answer. When he didn't answer, Dumbledore left, murmuring, "This has to be done."

Not very long after, Sirius walked in, followed closely by Remus.

"We've been sent to make sure you don't, ah-interfere," Remus said as gently as he knew how, then pulled up a chair, pulled out a book, and started reading.

Sirius sat down as well. "Look," he said, putting a friendly hand on George's shoulder, "she's playing you."

George looked up. "She wouldn't," he said, sounding only a little unsure.

Sirius shook his head, his eyes growing cold. "She's a Death Eater," he said bluntly, "and besides that, I've played too many people myself to not know what's going on."

"You're wrong." This time it was not George that spoke, but Remus. Sirius blinked in surprise.

"What?" he said.

"Sorry, Sirius, but you haven't seen her much," Remus said calmly.

"I've seen her plenty," Sirius said complacently, trying not to turn the conversation into an argument.

"I mean you haven't seen her without her mask on. I have, although it was accidentally," Remus explained patiently.

"And I-" George stopped. "We've talked," he said finally, blushing a little.

Remus hid his smile behind his book, but Sirius grinned. "Now I understand," he said slyly.

"No, listen-" George started to protest, but he was cut off by a sudden, quick scream that lasted for only a second but seemed to linger in the air for so much longer.

"That . . . that was her," George finally said, and Remus and Sirius both nodded slowly.

"Look," Sirius said, "I know you're both fond of her, but remember who she is, and who she's chosen to serve. Remember what she did to Koon, and what she and her fellows were planning to do to Harry."

George and Remus paused. There wasn't any way to respond to that. Neither was there any way to respond to the second scream that pierced the air a moment later.

Cambri hadn't meant to scream. The first time it was surprise and the second time it was because of agony. Although perhaps a background would be helpful.

She had been questioned several times before while staying at the Order, and, as she hadn't told them anything, she had been certain that torture wasn't far behind. So, when Dumbledore entered with a grim look on his face, and a wand and a potion in either hand, the only cause for surprise was that she was worth his valuable time.

The torture didn't take the form of either intense physical pain or incredible humiliation, which was what she was familiar with. Perhaps if it had been, it wouldn't have been so bad.

Dumbledore first forced her to drink the Veritaserum, which she wasn't worried about. She had drunk the antidote a few weeks ago, and since it lasted for two months or so, she would not be forced to tell the truth. It was true, though, that the longer she went without the antidote, the more painful it was to lie, but she could still do it and that was what mattered.

He had asked her several questions before he realized that she was fighting off his potion, then he raised his wand.

Cambri did not know what spell he used, but the next thing she knew, she was in pain. Not terrible pain, but a dull throb that started from the base of her neck and spiderwebbed through her head to reach her temples.

Dumbledore locked eyes with her. "What is Lord Voldemort planning?" he asked quietly.

Before she knew what she was doing, memories of discussing plans flooded to the surface of her mind, and the answer to his question formed on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed it, then screamed, falling to her knees and pressing her hands to her head.

A white hot pain had just exploded when she refused to answer, and the pain and shock of it all had been the cause of her reaction. She was immediately humiliated as the pain dulled enough to enable her to think, and her cheeks turned a delicate pink. She climbed to her feet.

Dumbledore asked her several more questions, and each one made the pain worse, until finally she was permanently forced down on her knees because she could no longer stand.

She was breathing hard, and trying even harder to conceal it. "I won't tell you, Dumbledore," she said, her voice cold with anger. "You can try all you want, but my fear of my master far surpasses the fear of anything you can throw at me."

Dumbledore paused in his questioning. He knew that this was true. He also knew, however, that he could not let this go. He kept asking.

Cambri was doing all right until, seemingly out of nowhere, Dumbledore asked her if there were any painful memories she could share. Images of darkened rooms and Malfoy and Richard sprang to the forefront of her mind. These images, which had long since been buried deep and had only been experienced in dreams, were just as fresh as if they were happening again. Cambri screamed then, the pain and anger and humiliation hitting her like a cinderblock.

She didn't scream at what happened next, although she dearly wanted to. Dumbledore broke down her defenses and entered her mind. Of course he hit those horrible memories first.

Cambri, sensing his hesitation and surprise, gathered whatever wits the torture hadn't touched and forced him out of her mind. She couldn't let him see her master's plans, and, what's more, she couldn't let him see her own memories.

For a moment, Dumbledore looked at her, surprised, then he took a step backwards and sat. Cambri didn't realize why everything looked hazy, then she realized that the pain was so great she was about to pass out. Gathering her strength again, she spoke through the haze.

"I hope you're happy." Her voice was no longer cold and icy with control and discipline. On the contrary, it was thick with emotion and pain.

"I am not," Dumbledore said, and when he didn't elaborate, she pressed him.

"Take this spell off me," she ordered, then paused. "Please," she added painfully.

Dumbledore looked at her in surprise, then flicked his wand and stood. Cambri fairly collapsed from relief.

"We will have to speak again soon, I'm sure," he told her, then left the room.

Cambri crawled up onto her bed and pulled the covers up over her head. She kept relieving the memories until she finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

A/N: Basically, this note is asking you, if you have the time or the incentive, to please review. Thanks much!


	9. Emotions and Revelations

Disclaimer: I originally came up with the idea of Harry Potter, but since nobody would publish it, I sold it to J.K. Rowling for a box of doughnuts. You can bet I've been kicking myself ever since the books came out. (P.S. I don't own anything. Dang it.)

A/N: Okay, I felt so bad that it took so long to update that I just had to write you guys a new chapter. Hopefully, this will soothe some hurt feelings (and get people to review???). This hasn't been edited or anything, but I hope you'll like it anyway.

Cambri didn't wake up from her fitful sleep until the next afternoon, nearly 24 hours later. She couldn't believe that they had let her sleep. If they were intelligent about torture at all, they should realize that you don't allow the one you're torturing to recover. But she was grateful for their stupidity all the same.

When she woke, Cambri was not sure exactly where she was. Her dreams had taken her back to the Death Eater headquarters. Looking around, though, she realized several seconds later that she was still with the Order. The fact that Remus was sitting in a chair, watching her, helped a good deal.

"Hey," she said, sitting up slowly, and pressing her head. The remains of the previous day's torture still lurked behind her eyes.

"Do you want some aspirin?" Remus asked, and she smiled, remembering their first conversation. It seemed so long ago, when really she had only been here a fortnight.

"I'd love some," she told him, about to smile again when she noticed his stern expression. "What is it?" she asked as he handed her the pills and she swallowed.

He sighed. "How long are you going to keep this up, Cambri?" he asked, and, seeing her confusion, added, "Your act. You can't really be my friend, and you can't really be George's, either, so why are you still pretending?"

Cambri drew in a pained breath. She realized, so suddenly it hurt, how stupid she'd been. Had she actually thought these people . . . were her friends. The admission of her stupidity, even if it was just to herlself,made her feel even worse. She had trusted them, liked them, even, because, because . . . because why? She really wasn't sure.

Was it because she felt like she needed a shield in this unfamiliar place, or perhaps because she had wanted a new game to play? Or maybe, possibly, it was because she had actually liked them, because she was tired of being cold and alone all of the time. Was it because she had wanted someone who would listen to her, who would talk to her, who she didn't have to be guarded around all the time?

Was it because she had wanted a friend?

Cambri realized that Remus was still looking at her, still wanting an answer and she bit her lip. She was going to have to lie. There was no way she was baring her neck again. This hurt too much. "I guess I figured life here would be easier if I had a foil to lean back on," she said casually. Remus all but winced.

"So what are you planning to do now?" he asked her. "Assuming you don't escape, that is. You're going to subject yourself to torture to protect that scum you call 'master'? Is that it?"

He was angry; he had every right to be. He believed that Cambri had used him so she would be protected. Cambri realized this, but all the same, his words enflamed her.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Lupin," she hissed.

"Maybe I don't," he said irritably. "Make me understand. You're smart, Cambri. Why would you choose to serve Voldemort?"

Cambri winced slightly, and Remus shook his head in disgust. "You want to know why?" she demanded angrily. "I'll tell you, but you still won't get it."

"Try me," he hissed, just as venomously as she had a few moments before.

"Fine," she snapped. "Serving him is like . . . it's fast and it's powerful and it's absorbing. One minute you're in his favor, the next you're in pain. It's the ultimate game, with rules that you don't know but have to figure out as you go."

"You serve him because you think it's a game?" he demanded incredulously.

"No, you misunderstand me," she said, her voice rising. "I serve him because, even when there are risks and pain involved, I still belong there, I still know the rules. I'm even protected, in a way."

"Protected?" Remus all but shouted. "What about Malfoy?"

His words hung still in the air, vibrating slightly and then crashed down on the floor. Cambri drew back into herself. She did not want to discuss this topic. Remus could lecture her all he wanted now. She would not react.

"Well?" he demanded finally, although much more quietly this time.

She exhaled slowly. "What about Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

"What about what he does to you?"

"Sometimes I break the rules," she said tonelessly. "I have to be punished then."

"And rape is Lord Voldemort's chosen form of punishment?" Remus was starting to sound dangerous again.

"Sometimes," Cambri said submissively.

Remus shook his head, realizing that he was going to get no more out of her. "Think about what you give Voldemort, and what you get in return Cambri," he said intently.

"He's my master," she replied, her lips barely moving. "He does not have to give me anything in return for my services."

"I cannot believe how stupid you're being about this!" Remus said explosively, his patience with her evaporating. "Did you just wake up one morning and decide to go serve the most evil wizard that ever lived?"

"I was recruited, actually."

"By whom?"

"Two other Death Eaters." She was answering his questions automatically, still passive.

"Who?" he demanded.

"I can't reveal that," she said.

Suddenly, Remus thought of something. With Cambri's brilliant memory, surely she must remember something about her real parents, unless . . . "Cambri," he said gently, and she looked up guardedly, suspicious of his sudden kindness, "Cambri, are there any . . . gaps in your memory? Places where you feel like there should be filled, but are holes instead?"

She stiffened, and stood. Remus didn't turn, but his eyes followed her progress over to the bookshelf, where she studied the books' titles. He was about to prompt her, when she answered his question.

"Yes. Well, sort of. I know what you mean, anyway." Her voice was barely audible and she sounded beaten. "I can remember back to when I was very young, but my memory stops when I was three. And in some conversations, it seems like words are cut out, while everything else is crystal clear."

"Those sound like erased memories, Cambri," Remus said, trying to reach her with his words. "We could help you recover them."

She turned abruptly to face him. "No," she said softly. "No. My master had a reason for erasing those memories."

Remus could see that she didn't want to think about this, that she didn't want to question her master. He could tell that it would hurt her too much, right now, to be uncertain about something that had been so constant in her life. He felt a sudden rush of pity for her, as he realized that this life had been chosen for her. She was merely trying to work through the life that had been forced on her.

"All right. I won't talk about this again, not unless you want me to," he said, standing. "But if you ever want those memories that Voldemort stole from you, talk to me."

Cambri looked at him in surprise, hearing the sympathy in his voice, then looked down, ashamed of the weakness she'd shown him. He shouldn't be able to pity her. She did not look up when he left, and she didn't move for a long time. When she did, it was only to lie down and sleep to escape her fear and the terrible, terrible sadness she felt.

A/N: Hooray!! Did you like it? Did it suck? Dish out your feelings with a well thought out (or not so well thought out) review!!


	10. Coldness and Dreams

Disclaimer: So, I figure that if anyone deserves to own Harry Potter, it's . . . not me. And I don't, and all is right with the world. The end.

A/N: Here you guys go! Just so you know, this chapter is somewhat . . . creepier and deeper than the others (or so I think), but I love it just as much, and I hope you will too!

Cambri was very cold.

It didn't make sense, since she was covered by a thick quilt, but she was cold all the same.

She lay in total darkness, staring up at the ceiling. She had no guard, because she had no freedom. Remus had ceased to vouch for her, and she didn't know where George was these days. She had lost her last shred of credibility with the Order when she had spoken with Remus a week ago. They had tied her to her bed frame and left her without any contact with humans for that miserable week. This was to ensure, she supposed, that she would not corrupt any of the other innocents around here, and perhaps even to break down her defenses.

It was working, dang it.

Cambri had always been a little unbalanced, just a little unstable, especially since she had been working for Voldemort. There was just a crack in her foundation, and whether that crack had always been there or if it had appeared from too much stress and torture put on the establishment was up for grabs, but it didn't really matter. Whatever the reason, it was there, and she could feel it now.

This week alone had not suited Cambri. She was not used to solitude, or privacy. She liked the busy, even frantic nature of her old life, and of her life in the Order before she had to lie to Remus to protect herself. Now, left alone to her own devices, and staring up at the unforgiving ceiling, she could feel the crack widening, branching out. She was afraid that if she thought about anything, she would collapse.

She had not had the easiest, or the best, or the least painful life; far from it. But she had never complained, never argued with her fate; she had merely accepted it as fate and done her best with it. She had never pitied herself; pity brought her nothing and took her nowhere. She did not sympathize with herself; there were others with far worse lives than she. Just because she couldn't think of any right now didn't mean a thing.

All in all, she had done the best she could with the life she had been handed. So why did she hate herself and everything about her life right now?

All Cambri could think of was hormones. There was no other explanation for her attitude at the moment. She had done what she had had to do with Remus- there had been no other way, not unless she wanted to take off her mask again . . .

Then again, was her mask really that important? No, she didn't think so. Perhaps, though, she had made it that important. Perhaps she was becoming the mask she had put on so often.

These were dark thoughts though, practically designed to hurt her foundation. She had to think positive, or at least not about that. She looked around the room, hoping for something that would distract her. Of course she couldn't see anything; it was pitch black, as she had noticed earlier.

_Why aren't I asleep? _she demanded of herself. But even before she asked herself the question, she knew the answer.

_I'm scared of what darkness I might encounter when I dream. I'm scared that I'll fall asleep and I won't wake up to reality. I have to stay awake. Any one of my bad dreams could send me . . . down . . . over the edge . . . I think that's what it's called . . . _

Despite her determination, her exhaustion (as exhaustion will) took her and practically dragged her over the line between dreams and reality.

_"You're wasting your time, you know." _

_Cambri couldn't see who said this. She couldn't see anything. She was in a dark fog, thick and heavy and weighing her down. "What?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She sounded weak, childlike. She felt like it too._

_"You're wasting your time." The voice was strong, but it was whisper-quality, wispy and evanescent. _

_"I don't understand," she protested angrily. "What am I wasting my time with?"_

_"You're wasting my time too, Cambri."_

_"What?" she shouted into the mist. "What are you talking about?" She was starting to get the vinegar taste of fear in her mouth. "Who are you? How do you know me?"_

_"I know you, Cambri."_

_Cambri was getting goose bumps. She knew that voice. Who was it? It continued speaking. _

_"You know me, as well. We are quite alike, you and I. It won't be long until you see that."_

_"Where are you?" The terror in her voice shattered the mist, and it fell in sharp, ghastly shards down to earth. She could finally see her attacker. "You," she said, her voice soft again. _

_"No," said the person in front of her. "You."_

_Cambri was looking at herself. "This can't be real," she murmured. "This has to be a dream."_

_"Yes," agreed herself. "But I'm real. I came from that crack deep in your foundation. And you are wasting our time." _

_Cambri spun around, perhaps to run away from the imposter, but she was facing her in every direction she turned. _

_"Idiot," the imposter hissed. "This mind belongs to me too. I am you. You can't run away from yourself. Although," she added, "you've been doing a pretty good job of it lately."_

_"Get away," Cambri whispered, seeing now where the glass shards had fallen. They were in the imposter's eyes and her heart and mind. She was seeing through the other girl, and they were there. She remembered reading a story, so long ago, about glass shards of . . . a mirror, perhaps? She wasn't sure. It might have been the Snow Queen, but it had been so long ago . . . _

_"Yes," agreed the imposter, "it was the Snow Queen." _

_"Get out!" Cambri screamed at her. She was terrified, and it showed in her voice, but at this point she didn't care. "Get out! Get out! I want you out, I want you to go! You're not me; I don't have that glass in me, not anymore. I can't be like that anymore!" _

_The imposter smiled at her, a cruel smile. "Then I will leave, for now. But when doubt surfaces, I'll be back, and so will your glass." She disappeared, and the mist swirled around Cambri again._

_She could hear voices, several of them, calling at her from far away. She tried to answer. They were voices she knew, from people she knew, but the mist was too thick. Suddenly, she heard a new voice, deep and commanding, and the mist cleared and she rose up above the dreams . . . _

Cambri opened her eyes, and immediately shut them again. The overhead light in her room was on, and it pained her after so much darkness. She slowly inched her eyelids open and looked around. There were several people in the room: Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, and George. She looked directly at George, whose worried expression was fading quickly into sullen anger. She looked around at the others.

"What's going on?" she asked them quietly.

"You were . . . having a dream?" Remus guessed this hesitantly.

"Yes, people usually do, Lupin." Cambri didn't say this sarcastically. She sounded weary, stretched thin.

"Voldemort was just here," said Dumbledore dangerously. "Has he ever . . . possessed you before?"

Cambri laughed then. She didn't mean to, she knew it was inappropriate, but she couldn't help it. "My master, possess me? He doesn't need to possess me, Dumbledore. Are you sure he wasn't just visiting me, while I dream? We're linked that way, you know." Cambri was feeling slightly hysterical. That awful, horrible dream, and now this hostility and interrogation were more than she could handle.

Dumbledore apparently could tell what she was feeling, because he backed off. "I will not let this drop, Cambri, but I will talk to you in the morning. Good night." Sirius and Remus, who gave her a scathing look laced with pity (she had no idea how the werewolf managed to do this), left with him.

George was watching her guardedly. "You used me," he finally said, and she cringed a little. She wasn't up to this.

Cambri couldn't think of answer; not to his accusation, or to the pained emotion on his face. He finally shook his head in disgust, and headed for the door.

"George, wait," she said softly, finding her voice. He turned on her.

"Wait for what?" he snarled. "Remus told me what you said, okay? I get it now. I tried to protect you, I helped you, I don't know- I may have even loved you. And all this time, I was playing right into your hands. All this time, I was doing exactly what you wanted me to." His voice quieted. "I don't really want to see you, Cambri. You are not the person I wanted you to be. You're not who you should be, but if that's the path you've chosen, then so be it. You're going to have to walk it without me." He stormed out.

After he was gone, there were no words, no thoughts. Her mind was blank and white and void of everything. She lay down, but did not sleep.

Cambri was very cold.

A/N: So what did you think? I rather liked it. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but there you are, Chapter 10!!!!! I'm into double digits now!!!!!


	11. Obsession and Therapy

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play with other people's toys.

A/N: Happy Holidays everybody!!!! I myself had a wonderful Christmas, and I hope you enjoyed your holidays as well! In a fit of holiday spirit, I'd just like to thank some of the people who have reviewed my story in the last few chapters:

**Sweet 16 Movie Buff- **You're right about the evil, monster side of Cambri. The reason she was able to surface was because Cambri isn't sure yet who she wants to be. Have I ever mentioned that I absolutely love to get reviews from you? They tell me specifically what you like and expect from my story. Thanks so much!

**larka- **Thanks for your review, and sticking with my story throughout my storytelling coma.

**Helena & Phinea & Zevazo & Teen Prodigy of Ravenclaw- **I already thanked you guys for your reviews, but thanks again. I love you guys!

**cf8work4u247- **You bring up a good point. I plan to delve deeper into that aspect of the story in chapter 12.

**celtic elf- **You are absolutely right. Cambri still does have a few tricks up her sleeve, and I plan to use them all. ;)

**Natalie-Slytherin- **I have you to thank for the rebirth of my story. Your review got me started again! Thanks much!

**parissima- **I know your review was forever ago, but I love all the questions you raise. It makes me feel good, knowing I'm keeping you all in suspense!

_And, finally, here's the next chapter:_

George woke up, rolled over, and sighed. It was 2:46. A.M. This was impossible. He was waking up every fifteen minutes. He looked over at Fred and was dearly tempted to wake him so they could perform some daring trick and he could get his mind off Cambri, just for a few minutes. He didn't, though, because some part of him didn't _want _to forget about Cambri.

Tonight was the third night in a row that he had dreamed about her. Dreaming about girls in general was okay -- hey, normal, expected, of a seventeen-year-old. He liked girls. He was supposed to like girls. But this girl was not just any girl.

And the third night in a row? Surely this was a bit excessive. Especially, well, especially over Cambri. He couldn't believe how pathetic he was. He'd been with plenty of girls. Why was she different?

The only thing that seemed plausible for his apparent obsession was the intrigue that came from Cambri being a Death Eater. But that shouldn't be grounds for an fixation; that should be enough to tell him to stay far, far away.

"What is wrong with me?" he demanded to the empty air.

"Tell me about your childhood, Mr. Weasley," replied a voice identical to his own. George sat up in bed and looked towards his twin, who was grinning at him.

"Fred," he moaned, throwing a pillow at the bed on the other side of the room. Fred caught it.

"No, really," Fred insisted, "tell me about it."

"What are you doing up, Fred?"George demanded.

Fred's face grew serious, or as serious as it ever got. "Hey," he said reproachfully, "you think after all these years, I don't know when you're awake? Or when you're having girl problems?" There was a bit of a pause. "This, I might add, is practically all the time, so you'd better be glad I'm patient with you and your specific area of idiocy."

"You know, for a minute there, I actually thought you were going to be serious about this," George growled at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Fred, waving it aside. "Look, see, I'm being serious. I want to help. You're no_ fun_ when you're melancholy like this," he said mournfully. "What's up?"

"Look, this isn't about a girl, this is about Cambri," George said, still irritable with Fred, and with the rest of the world for that matter.

Fred raised an eyebrow at him and repeated, "This isn't about a girl, it's about Cambri? You're sure that's what you meant, mate?"

"No," George sighed. "No, I meant, this isn't about just _any_ girl. This is about Cambri. I'm afraid I'm having issues."

"Well, I've known that for the longest time. I'm glad you're finally admitting it," Fred said, his grin coming back sunnily to the surface.

"Ha, ha, funny Fred," George snapped, scowling. Fred jumped up and walked over to his bed.

"Look, I really am sorry, and I do want to help, but you gotta admit, this is one _weird_ obsession you've got going on here," Fred told him, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

George sighed again. "I know it is," he told his twin. "The problem is, I don't think it's an obsession. I think it might be, well . . . love."

"Love," Fred repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Love's tricky. I don't know if I can do love."

"I think I'm sure," George said pathetically. "I don't know; it's driving me crazy!"

"Remember what she said to Lupin, about how, she hated everyone and wanted to fry us all in oil. You know, that sort of thing," Fred warned.

George glared at Fred a moment, then sighed, and answered."I know, but why would she say stuff like that? I mean, she must have been driving him away for some reason, but why? When we first met her, remember how we figured she must have been one of the loneliest people in the world?"

"Yeah ..."

"She was so scared of us, just because we were being ourselves. She was starting to come out of her shell, Fred. She was . . . becoming a person, not just a machine Voldemort used."

"Yeah ..."

"And now, she's nothing. Even though I don't get to see her, I hear the adults talking. She doesn't do anything. She just lies on her bed and stares at the ceiling. Remember that dream she had, about a week ago, that made practically the whole house shake? It's like it zapped her of herself. She's gone. Dumbledore tried to question her, but she . . . it's like she's not there. She answers, but she's not there, and-"

"George, stop," Fred said sharply. George realized that he had sounded maybe a little more than a little frantic, and tried to compose himself.

"Look," said Fred yet again, "if you're this concerned about her, and if you really think she's not evil, or whatever, then you've got to talk to her."

"How?" George asked glumly. "It's not like they'd ever let me in her room. She corrupted me, remember?"

"Don't worry about that. Just be ready to go into her room at maybe, 10-ish tomorrow morning. I can give you a half hour if I really think it through," Fred said, then added, "Look, George . . . I don't pretend to understand whatever the hell you're feeling. I'm not sure I even want to, but . ." he paused. "But we're twins, right? And I want you to be . . happy, I guess."

George grinned at him. "I'm glad you're so enthusiastic, Fred."

"Hey," Fred said defensively, "you know what I mean."

"Yeah," said George, "I know what you mean. Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for, little one." Fred punched him, and George punched him back in the exact same spot, and they grinned at each other for a moment. Fred said, "I'm glad I don't have girl trouble like you got, mate," and then went back to his own bed.

George lay down, and this time he was able to sleep.

A/N: I know, I know. Cliffhanger, right? Well, hopefully, since that was what I was going for. Sorry for how short it was, but I wanted to leave it there for a day or so, just because I loveall of you so much.


	12. Romance and Escape

Disclaimer: No poseo los libros de Harry Potter. Pero, me gusta mucho, y me gusta jugar

con los caracteres mucho tambien. (Sorry if I mangled the Spanish.)

A/N: And finally, what you've all been waiting for: a new chapter!

Fred absolutely would not tell George what he was planning on doing.

"Look, mate, I'm just trying to spare you some humiliation," he finally said impatiently after breakfast. "If you knew what I was planning, you'd be begging to be in on it."

"Is it illegal?" George asked, and couldn't help grinning at Fred's wounded expression.

"I cannot believe that you, my only real brother, would think that I would do something outside the boundaries of the law!" he exclaimed.

"I'm your only real brother now?" George asked, leaning back in his chair. "I thought we'd decided that Bill was related to us."

Fred thought a moment. "I suppose you're right," he said grudgingly. "Look, I'm just going to get rid of some of the worst decorations in this house."

"Get rid of? As in burn?"

"Of course not!" Fred exclaimed. "A fire would be much too easy to extinguish."

"I suppose you know what you're doing," George said dubiously.

"I suppose you know what _you're_ doing," Fred answered.

They grinned at each other, and both said, "Good luck."

George still had no idea what Fred was planning, but when he heard the rather loud explosion, and saw the guards that stood by Cambri's door running downstairs, he figured that he had enough time.

He rushed up the stairs, around a corner, down the hall, and finally slipped inside Cambri's door. For a moment he just stood looking at the dark mahogany wood, and then he turned to face Cambri.

Obviously, a sedentary lifestyle did not suit her. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck, but it was dull and tousled from sleep. Her eyes had dark, worried bags under them, and they too seemed dull and lifeless. She was utterly too thin, and he knew she hadn't used most of her muscles in weeks. She was, however, sitting up in bed, as far as she could sit up in bed, and she was watching him calmly.

"George," she said, her hoarse voice dry and amused sounding. "How have you been?"

It was a sarcastic, bitter question, and there was no doubt as to who she blamed her current miseries on. George was about to reply in kind, when he noticed a somewhat desperate look, barely noticeable in her face. No matter what she said, she still craved human conversation, still needed some human kindness.

And all at once, George decided that they were all wrong about her. Whatever she had said or done, there was a reason for it. And all at once, he decided that he did love her.

"Cambri," he started, "I know you must be furious with me-"

She cut him off. "Oh, no, George, I'm not angry at anyone."

He stopped and stared at her. "You're not?" he asked, surprised.

"No," she repeated. "Not in the least. There's no room in me for anger."

He watched her carefully. There was something . . . off, something wrong here.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, George, that I am too sad and I am too tired and I am too scared to feel anything else."

"Please," he said urgently, "Please let me explain. I doubted you, because of what you said to Lupin, but it's not true, now I know it's not true."

"George," she interrupted, "you don't-"

"I know I don't understand," he said, cutting her off, "I know don't, and I can't, and whatever. But I'd like to try. And . . . I'm sorry for doubting you. It's not fair for either of us. I'm very sorry."

He stood looking at her a moment, and then he went to her. "I know I'm stupid and . . . well, we seem so unlikely, but . . . maybe we could work something out. I think . . . I'm sure . . . that, well, I love you." He knew it sounded stupid and lame, but he didn't care. Leaning forward, George kissed her, and, almost surprising him, she responded.

As always, they just seemed to click when they were touching. She moaned softly. She wanted him to care for her the way he seemed to, but she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that there was no way it could work out.

"Wait," she said, so quietly she couldn't even hear herself. He continued, gently biting the tender skin on her neck and collarbone. "George," she finally moaned, "George, please, I can't."

George pulled away, and stood, looking somewhat embarrassed. "What . . . what do you mean?" he asked.

"George," she said heavily. She didn't want to do this, but she had to get him out of here. She shook her head helplessly. "Maybe you should leave," she said, her voice a tiny whisper.

"What?" her asked, leaning forward so he could hear her.

"George," she said anxiously, her breath coming quickly now, "you have to leave here. You are in danger, please, you've got to leave."

"What?" he demanded, jerking back and staring at her. Was she crazy? What was with all of these bizarre mood swings? "What do you mean I'm in danger? I'm-"

And it was that precise moment that he was hit from behind with a Stunning Spell.

Malfoy stepped out from behind the door. "He's really quite devoted to you," he said, gesturing to George's fallen form. "That was highly entertaining to watch, by the way."

Cambri looked at Malfoy steadily, refusing to be goaded. "Just untie me, Malfoy," she said, he voice vaguely irritated.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" he asked, sounding amused. "You're famous at our headquarters for getting out of fixes like this."

She bared her teeth in a deadly smile. "Just untie me, you bastard, you know as well as I do that Dumbledore enchanted these ropes himself."

"Did he now?" Malfoy asked, walking over to the bed. "Why don't you ask nicely, Pet?"

Cambri's eyes narrowed. "You'd better get us both out of here, Malfoy, I mean it. Any minute now, they're going to come back."

"Why don't you Apparate out?" He asked, his voice smooth.

"My powers are gone-you know that. That's exactly why I can't get out of these ropes. They zap my powers," she growled.

"Then you really had better ask nicely," he said, smiling.

She took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Please untie me, Lucius. We need to get out of here. They'll be back any moment now. Please."

His smile grew. "All right then," he said, "since you asked so nicely."

"Thank you," she ground out as he untied her.

He pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled. He caught her easily. "You're looking much the worse for wear," he said examining her. "No matter, a few good spells, and few weeks of training should clear everything up."

Cambri sighed, looking away from him and down at George.

"Ah, yes, that reminds me. Should we be taking him?" Malfoy asked, obviously referring to George.

Cambri shook her head slowly, remembering what George had said._ Did he mean it? I don't see how he _could_ love me, much less _want_ to . . . _she thought. Out loud, she said, "No, he didn't see you, so he'll have no idea how I escaped. And they haven't quite let him join the Order yet, so he knows nothing of value."

"Still," said Malfoy, "he did seem rather devoted to you . . ." He smiled down at her, still holding her up.

Cambri shook her head again. "Let's leave him. He's of no use to us."

Malfoy shrugged. "Your call," he said. "And now that we've figured out where their headquarters are, we can always come back to get him if we need him."

She nodded slowly, and closed her eyes as Malfoy raised his wand and chanted the spell that would take them to the headquarters. As the world started to disappear around them, he said quietly, a smile in his voice, "By the way, our Master isn't entirely pleased with you."

And then, they were there.

Cambri's eyes were closed, and her ears were ringing with the residue of the spell, but she still heard that very soft, very cold, all too familiar voice say, "Cambri, where have you been?"

She shivered. It was not good to be home.

A/N: So that went pretty fast, right? Sorry, again, about the time it took to write. I've had a huge musical I've been doing that's nearly finished. We just had opening night, so I figured I'd celebrate! Please, tell me what ya'll think!


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